


Is That a Gun in Your Pocket, Or...

by duchess_of_brighton



Series: Hop Shots [11]
Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Jim "Chief" Hopper Being Jim "Chief" Hopper, Jim "Chief" Hopper Lives, Oral Sex, Sexy Chief Hopper, Smut, Stress Relief, Swearing, Target Practice
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-24
Updated: 2020-05-24
Packaged: 2021-03-02 18:41:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,581
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24351520
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/duchess_of_brighton/pseuds/duchess_of_brighton
Summary: Reader is stressed out with work, and Hopper has a few ways to help her relax...
Relationships: Jim "Chief" Hopper/Original Female Character(s), Jim "Chief" Hopper/Reader, Jim "Chief" Hopper/You
Series: Hop Shots [11]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1641358
Comments: 10
Kudos: 39





	Is That a Gun in Your Pocket, Or...

**Author's Note:**

> So I'm stressed out at the moment with a hundred competing things, so I thought to myself, how could Hopper help a stressed out reader to relax....

"You left your goddamn door unlocked again!"   
You look up from your papers with a start at the sound of Hopper's bellow from the living room. Seconds later he appears in the doorway of the spare bedroom that you sometimes use as a home office, looking thoroughly confused.   
"What's going on, sweetheart?"  
You rub your tired eyes. "You're early, Hop. I was going to make a start on dinner-"  
"I'm late." He tells you, frowning, "It's past six. You been working all this time?"  
"What?" You look at your watch, shocked to see that he's right, it's 6:20pm. You last spoke to him at noon, when he called to let you know that he'd be over around five thirty.   
He comes closer to you and drops to a crouch in front of your chair. "What's going on?" He asks again.   
"Like I told you on the phone, I've just got a lot to get through, a couple of deadlines got brought forward-" You can't stop the slight wobble in your voice. "I thought I could get through it all by working Saturday, but-" Your hand comes back to your eyes, they're gritty from staring at small print, and you notice that your head is pounding.  
"Enough." Hop says firmly. "I'm ordering dinner, I'm running you a bath, and you're going to deal with the rest of this shit on Monday." He smiles slightly, "Tomorrow is the day of rest, baby. And since El wants to spend the day with Mike, that means I get to rest with you."

You have to fight back tears. You're so exhausted, Hop coming in and taking over feels like such a relief. You'll probably cop some shit from your boss on Monday for not getting finished, even though the workload is completely unreasonable, but it'll be worth it to have a reason to stop now. You're not sure you could have managed much longer anyway, even if you'd wanted to. 

"Don't cry, sweetheart." Hop's face is full of concern. "Put all this away-" He gestures at the paperwork covering the desk, "-and I'll deal with everything else."   
You wipe your face, "You've had a long day too." You argue, finally registering that he's still in uniform, and there are dark shadows under his eyes. "You shouldn't have to-"  
"Stop." He puts his fingers to your lips. "I want to."

You don't have the will to put up any further protest, so instead you do as you're told and tidy away your papers into various folders, then go in search of Hopper, who you find in the bathroom putting the finishing touches to a bath almost overflowing with bubbles.  
"I didn't know how much to use." He makes a face, and to your surprise, a giggle makes its way out of your mouth.  
"You can never have too many bubbles." You decide, and he chuckles.   
"If you say so, sweetheart. Get in, I'll go call a pizza."

It's only when you go to take them off that you remember you're wearing threadbare sweatpants and a faded tank top, your hair pulled into a haphazard top knot, and you cringe. It's not that you usually make a super special effort for a night in with Hop - you've been together long enough for him to have seen you in sweats plenty of times - but you do normally at least have clean hair and a little mascara on. Deliberately avoiding looking in the mirror, you drop the offending clothes into the laundry hamper and step into the bath, breathing a sigh of relief as the warm water soothes muscles stiffened by sitting at a makeshift desk all day. Resting your head on the edge of the tub, you close your eyes and try to relax.

The bath does manage to relieve some of your physical aches and pains, but you still feel stressed when you climb out and slip into clean underwear and one of Hopper's flannel shirts. It's like you can't let go of the work tasks still swirling around in your head. Even as you eat pizza with Hop on the sofa, his arm comfortingly slung around your shoulders as you try to focus on the TV, a part of you is still tense.   
"You can't let it go, can you, baby?" He asks in the end, his fingers squeezing the top of your arm.   
"I really want to." You tell him, not surprised that he's able to sense your feelings, "It's just been a really heavy week, and then working all day today just..."   
"I know. You think I haven't had weeks like that?" He gives you a slow smile that has an edge to it that makes your breathing suddenly speed up. "Means I know the best remedy for it, too."  
"Oh, really?" You try to keep your voice level, but there's a slight squeak as his eyes meet yours and his hand meanders lazily down your arm, his fingers tracing gently over the bare skin of your forearm.   
"Really." 

"This isn't exactly what I thought you had in mind." You tell him dryly ten minutes later, as you stand in the clearing between the side of your house and the dense trees beyond.   
"Just trust me." He finishes arranging the collection of empty bottles, cans and general junk on the differently sized logs and tree stumps at the edge of the woods. "This is gonna help."   
As he walks back towards you, you can't help admiring your man. Dressed in jeans and a button down shirt, the sleeves rolled up to reveal strong forearms, he's just so tall and broad and delicious. 

"Here." He takes the gun out of his waistband at the back and offers it to you.   
"Whenever guys do that, I always wonder why they aren't worried about accidentally blowing their asses off." You comment and he guffaws.  
"The safety's on, baby. Gotta keep the safety on." You take the gun from him with a smirk, and he moves to stand behind you, his hands on your waist. "Now, safety off, bring it up slow, and pick your target."  
You do as you're told, taking aim at a tin can set atop a thick branch right at your eye level. "Got it."  
"Okay, now when you're ready, you're going to squeeze the trigger, nice and easy-"  
You let off a shot, which goes about a foot wide of the mark, and curse.  
"Easy, baby. Takes practice." You feel his chest against your back as he reaches his arms around you, his hands resting on yours as he helps you position the weapon. "Nice and steady," His mouth is against your ear, his warm breath ghosting over your cheek. "Relax a little."   
"Okay." You exhale slowly, "I think I got it."  
"Alright," There's a hint of amusement in his voice as he takes a step back. "Go for it."  
You adjust your stance slightly, take aim, and hit the can right in the centre, sending it flying off the branch. Adjusting your aim as you go, you quickly follow that by shattering a bottle, sending another can into the air, and taking out two brown glass beer bottles that are almost invisible against the tree trunk they're set in front of. 

Hopper breaks into laughter as you turn and hand him the gun. "Where in the hell did you learn to shoot like that?"  
"On my grandaddy's farm. And then in the back yard with my dad's old service revolver." You shrug, "But you're right, it does relieve stress."  
He smirks as he reloads and proffers the weapon again. "Round two?"  
"Oh no, your turn, cowboy. Show me what you got."  
Of course, he hits every target, as do you when you reset and go again. As you playfully compete, you feel the tension finally draining out of you, the concentration required for shooting chasing the lingering thoughts of work from your mind. By the time it starts to get dark, you're feeling much happier. 

"You're an excellent shot." Hop tells you as he carefully places the gun on the porch rail, "Better than some officers I could name."   
"Just call me Deputy, then, Chief." You grin as you throw your arms around his neck.  
"Feeling more relaxed now?" He asks, running his hands slowly up and down your back.   
"Definitely." You assure him.  
"Then maybe you don't need to try the other relaxation technique I had in mind..." He runs his hands down further and cups your ass, drawing you closer and pressing his hips into yours.   
"Actually," You say quickly, arching your back and pressing closer still, "I might still be feeling a little bit tense..."  
And with that, he hoists you over his shoulder, making you shriek with surprise and laughter as he carries you into the house and straight to the bedroom.

Hop drops you on the bed, and strips off his shirt before joining you, his lips immediately finding yours, and his hand going straight to your shirt buttons. As you kiss, you help him get your shirt and bra off, then get started on his jeans as his hands cup your naked breasts, gently squeezing and caressing.  
"God, Hop." You gasp against his lips as you open the buttons at his fly, making him let out a ragged groan as his hard dick falls into your hand, "What happened to underwear?"  
"Overrated."   
You're both laughing, still kissing, as he lifts his hips and shoves his jeans down, kicking off his shoes at the same time. You remember your own dusty boots and quickly toe them off, then bring your legs up to wrap around Hop's waist, pressing your still covered centre against his hardness.  
"Is that a gun in your pocket, or-"  
He sputters with more laughter, before shutting you up with another kiss, then rolls onto his back, bringing you with him so that you're suddenly sat astride him.  
"Since you're so proficient with handling weaponry..." He smirks. 

You're desperate to pull your panties aside and sink down onto his thick length, filling your aching core, but you also feel the urge to do something special for him, after he's taken such effort to turn your day around, reading your mood and finding exactly what you needed to release stress. So instead you slide down his body, settling on your knees between his legs, and lower your head, licking a long stripe up the underside of his straining dick.   
A string of curses fall from his mouth, and you smirk slightly before wrapping your lips around his tip and slowly taking him deep, using your hand to encircle the base of his dick, because he's too big for you to take him entirely in your mouth.   
"Holy shit, sweetheart, fuck, your fucking mouth... So hot... fuck..."  
You take it from that that he likes it, so you start to move slowly, your hand and mouth working in tandem, feeling him get impossibly harder, the salty tang of him on your tongue creating a fresh ache between your thighs. 

You move your free hand to your hip, pushing inside your panties and then pressing your fingers over your clit, whining in relief as your lips tighten around Hopper's dick. It's an impressive feat of coordination to move both of your hands and your mouth in rhythm, but you manage it somehow, taking the edge off your need while you stoke his. It's only a couple of minutes before you feel his hand in your hair, pulling you upwards, and hear his rasping voice utter something other than praise and curses.  
"Enough, baby, wait... Wait."   
You give in to the pressure and raise your head, looking up at him from between his spread thighs, one of your hands still circling his dick, the other still inside your panties.   
He growls, "You touching yourself?"  
"Mm hmm."  
"Holy..." And then he moves so suddenly that he takes you off guard, and before you completely register what's happening, you're on your back, your head half hanging off the end of the bed until his hands pull you back fully onto the mattress. A sharp sting across your hips and the scraps of fabric clenched in his fingers as he leans over you confirm that Hop has ripped your panties off, and then he's kissing you as you feel him notch at your entrance and drive deep into your soaking pussy.

"Fuck, Hopper!" It's your turn to curse as he fills you, stretching you, his hands holding yours over your head as he possesses you completely, driving into you with long, deep strokes. Your eyes lock with his, the fiery blue almost obscured by his lust blown pupils, and your body shakes with the rightness of it. He knows you, this man, completely. He knows how to calm you, how to take care of you. He knows how to challenge you, and he knows when to pin you down and take charge. He knows when you need to be in control, and when you need to be out of it. And he knows your body, sometimes even better than you do. 

He changes the angle of his thrusts just slightly, hitting that spot inside you that makes your mouth open in a silent scream of pleasure, your muscles tightening as your hurtle towards the edge of what promises to be a spectacular climax.   
"Please, Hop, God, I'm gonna..." You're babbling as he thrusts even deeper, his hands pressing yours harder into the mattress as he pounds you relentlessly.  
"Come on then, baby. Give it to me." He pants, but it's the half smile he gives you that finally pushes you over the edge, free falling as lightning flashes through your body, making you cry out incoherently as your legs wrap around his waist, keeping him deep inside you as you clench around his dick, your vision blurring, white hot pleasure ripping through you. You're dimly aware of the moment he reaches his own climax, feeling the fresh flood of heat inside you as you take every drop, but you're still riding the waves of ecstasy. 

As your body slowly starts to calm, your eyes half close, and you feel a little like you're floating. It's as though the last of your energy has been released, and there's nothing left but a warm, sleepy feeling spreading through your limbs. Hop's still on top of you, most of his weight on you, but the heaviness feels kind of nice. He shifts a little, and you make a sound of protest, receiving a low chuckle in return.  
"It's okay, baby." He pulls out of you gently, and you mewl with disappointment, trying to open your eyes properly to look up at him, but your eyelids remain heavy. "C'mere, it's okay." He rolls onto his back and gathers your boneless body close, your head falling onto his shoulder, your arm across his warm belly, your leg slung over his. "That's it, baby."  
You want to say something, you want to tell him how much tonight meant to you, how good he's made you feel, not just with the spectacular sex, but with the shooting and the pizza and everything he's done to turn your shitty day around, but there are only three words you can manage to form.  
"Love you, Hop."  
And the last thing you hear before you slide into sleep is a low chuckle and his reply.  
"Love you too, sweetheart. Always."

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading, please comment and let me know what you thought. If you have any ideas or requests for Hopper/Reader fics, let me know!
> 
> DoB x


End file.
